The Shaman sat astride one of the Demons; not
the leader, but somewhat more submissive. He bobbed gently up and down, as the
beast maintained its own height. Below, he could see the mass of tangled
bodies, snapping and snarling at each other. Their flight had been uneventful until
the chance sighting, and the shaman had chosen to let the Demons satiate their
appetites, before he forced them on. Curiously enough, the violence had not
ended as he had expected, rather the creatures had fought back, and from within
their ranks had emerged armoured humans. Not the Neo-Barbs from the Emerald
Forest, something entirely different.
A rending tear of auto-rifle fire shocked him
into the present. Demon blood sprayed on high and he knew that it was time for
intervention. With raised staff he began to invoke his Power.
*
What looked like an amalgam of man and beast
drew Alana’s attention. She noticed the crackle of energy around the staff in
one of the creature’s hands and cursed.
“Incoming...magic.” she transmitted and was
pleased to see her men react correctly. Exposure to Viker’s power had changed
their view on life. Alana hated to admit it, but they could do with a little of
their ex-Master’s mojo right now.
A flash of light signalled the discharge of
the creature’s power. She zoomed in, using the resolution of her suit to
clearly identify her enemy.
“We’ve got some sort of magician, demon-lover
or it’s an unknown technology. I don’t care. What I want is concentrated fire
and a dead Tauran.”
There was no acknowledgement of her request
in the usual sense, rather an outpouring of plasma and auto-rifle fire. Their
new “friends” merely followed suit, yet the effect was stunning.
*
“No!” screamed the Shaman as fire and bullets
tore through his mount. His own defences saved him, yet his ride disintegrated
beneath him. He demanded aid but felt the Demon Leader’s refusal. There would
be a reckoning, just not now.
He raised his hands above his head, drawing
upon his remaining power as his enchantment took form. With a rush of air and a
crashing report he disappeared leaving his erstwhile minions to their own
devices. If anything the fight became more savage as the Demons tried to
disengage.
Alana knew when to press her advantage, and
now was not the time for mercy. Leading by example she took to the air, her
jets forcing her rapidly towards the fight, her Wingmen and allies following.
Emerald Forest
Zone I
Zone I
“Got
it!” whispered Renard, showing his unbound hands and quickly moving to untie
the others. They had been herded into a nearby tent. It appeared that it took a
while to build the correct size bonfire for all of them. Two guards stood
watchfully out the front and Harms knew that this was going to be tricky,
especially without their weapons.
“Llorente!”
he hissed, the soldier whose face still showed the scratch marks from his
time being dragged along behind a horse, came forward.
“You
and Renard will need to crawl out under the back and have a quick look around.
We need some weapons, especially ours if you can find them.”
On
receiving their quiet nods, the others helped lift the back of the covering and
after a quick glance to either side scurried out. As Harms was helping
camouflage their improvised exit, he heard the approaching tread of footsteps
and hastily folded his hands behind his back. Seeing the others catching on
quickly, he turned to face the entrance.
“My
Lord wishes…” began the first of the mail-shirted guards, and then shouted in
surprise, “Where are they!”
His
companion rushed in with sword drawn and the first guard grabbed Harms by the
front of his tunic, “I said, where are they, dog?” he snarled.
“Surprise!”
spat Harms, his front hand latching onto that of the guard and holding it
tightly, the heel of his other hand striking in a short vicious motion against
the bottom of his chin.
As
the head snapped backwards, Harms again struck, this time with his now free
hand, punching the man in his throat. The guard gagged and fought for breath,
Harms taking his time in withdrawing the knife from the sheath on the
unfortunate guard’s belt.
Looking
over, he saw the crumpled figure of the other soldier and the grinning faces of
his men.
